Gnocchi
by Avandra the Mary Sue Slayer
Summary: Germany and Italy are hosting a family dinner, but the latter seems to have some problems with the cooking...


**Another oneshot I wrote a little while ago. For the record, the dinner in the story has NOTHING to do with Thanksgiving. It could be a Christmas dinner or just a regular meeting. I hope you like it. Please leave a review, it's the only way I have to know if I'm doing a good job or not!**

"Germany, Germany!"

The blond sighed and put the newspaper he was reading back on the table. What could be possibly happening _now?_

"Germany, something terrible happened!" Italy stormed into the room, waving his arms back and forth and practically hyperventilating.

"What is it?" he sighed in defeat. There was no escape from a scared Italian.

"We've run out of pasta!" the short man replied, putting his hand on his forehead in an overly dramatic fashion "We're all going to die! Just when we had guests!"

"We're not going to die" the German grumbled, slightly irritated by his significant other's whiny attitude "There's plenty of ingredients in the kitchen, is there really nothing you can do?"

The thin-framed male had promised to make a nice dinner, since some of the pair's relatives were coming along that evening. They didn't hold family meetings too often, so the Italian liked to make the most of it by preparing some delicious traditional meals from his home place. However, his endless appetite had the clear consequence of making the food run out a lot faster than expected.

"We only have potatoes, flour, eggs and… wait" Italy was now scratching his chin, lost in thought. Germany eyed him suspiciously. It was _his_ kitchen he'd be using, after all.

"I think I have an idea!" the visibly happier nation exclaimed, already racing towards the kitchen.

"Hey, don't go so fast!" the German complained "And make sure you don't dirty anything!"

The taller man made his way to the kitchen, dreading what he would find in there. He soon found Italy peeling off some potatoes. Hurriedly, the bulky man took the discarded skin and threw it into the trash can. When the Italian was done with the potatoes, he put them in one of his partner's pots that he had previously filled with water, and left them to boil. Vapor escaped the pot and liquefied into water that fell on the German's once perfectly clean cooker. He quickly took a cloth and frantically dried the water to prevent a disaster.

It was then that Italy gave him one of _those_ looks.

"What do you want now?" the taller man grumbled.

"Could you mash the potatoes for me?" the auburn-haired male pleaded "You do it better than me, and I need to make a purée with them"

Raising an eyebrow, the German obliged. Whatever strange recipe was going through the shorter male's mind, he didn't have a clue. However, he had known him long enough to know he could definitely be trusted with cooking. So in the end, he just followed the short man's instructions.

Italy took the resulting mash and added egg yolk and salt, and then he slowly mixed it all with flour. He patiently worked, a smile never leaving his face, while he hummed happily. The mix gradually turned into dough. He took a portion of it and stretched it with his hands into a cylindrical shape which he then cut into smaller portions. He repeated the process until he had used off all the dough.

Italy beamed brightly.

"It's almost done!"

Germany couldn't help but smiling back.

"I'm sure they're going to love it"

* * *

Soon after, the countries' guests arrived to the house. Prussia, Spain, Romano, France, Hungary and Austria were all there for dinner. As conversations were started -Austria made sure to seat as far from Prussia as possible-, Italy excused himself and began serving his special meal. He had coated it with some bolognese sauce, believing that it would perfectly fit his improvised dish. Germany had already set the table and was helping him serve the food to their guests. Once it was all ready, the Italian encouraged them to try it and stated his hopes for them to enjoy their meal.

Romano eyed his dish suspiciously.

"What the hell is this, brother?"

"Well… I ran out of pasta, so I had to improvise" he replied, scratching the back of his head.

France tried the food.

"Hm… not bad" he replied " _I have to steal the recipe"_ he thought as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Hey, West" Prussia chimed in "You're lucky your boyfriend's such a good cooker!"

Germany blushed, making his older brother snicker. He just loved teasing the shy blond.

"This is really good, Romano, you should try it!" Spain cheerfully encouraged the older Italian, who reluctantly took a bite.

" _This is fucking delicious"_

"This isn't even pasta, dammit! Veneziano, that potato head has completely ruined your taste in food!" he hastily complained, all the while eating the meal at almost superhuman speed.

The potato head in question silently glared at the loud man as he silently enjoyed his meal. He made a mental note to ask Italy to teach him how to cook it, it was truly delicious.

"It tastes really good, Italy, congratulations!" Hungary politely said, smiling "What do you think, Austria? Don't you agree with me?"

When the aforementioned nation wouldn't respond, everyone turned to him.

"Austria? Are you okay?" the only female in the room asked, starting to get worried.

He started to tremble.

A single, dramatic tear fell from his eye.

"I… I can't…" he started "The only way I can accurately express my feelings towards this delicacy is through song"

Everyone in the room wondered where the piano he was now playing came from, but Italy was ecstatic. He not only got to hear Austria playing music again, everyone had liked his food! He had been a bit worried that it wouldn't work out, but he was now sure that it had been a complete success. Even if his older brother wouldn't admit it aloud.

* * *

Once all their guests were gone, the pair washed the dishes and got ready to go to bed, as it was getting late. Germany noticed that Italy was frowning slightly.

"What's wrong?"

"You never gave me your opinion" he whined, pouting a bit "Did you like what I cooked?"

"Well, first of all you should give it a name, don't you think?"

Italy thought for a moment.

"How about _gnocchi?_ Because it's all round and fluffy!"

The blond nodded.

"It's not a bad name"

"You still haven't told me if you liked it" the Italian complained, lowering his head.

Suddenly, he found himself in the arms of a smiling German, his pale face mere inches from his.

"Everything you cook is delicious, _Geliebter"_

* * *

 **Gnocchi is a traditional Italian meal that dates back to the 19th century. When Italian feudal lords rised wheat taxes, their vassals decided to replace it with potatoes. This dish became extremely popular in the Southern Cone -where it is traditionally consumed on the 29th of each month-, but also in several European countries such as Germany or Austria, which have crafted their own versions of the meal.**


End file.
